


I Just Called To Say I Love You

by gayforgrunkle



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Telltale Series (Video Game)
Genre: But mostly slowburn, Eventual smut if the story leads there, M/M, slow build-up, this is gay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-05-13 14:29:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14750649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayforgrunkle/pseuds/gayforgrunkle
Summary: It's no secret that there is no romance option with John in the Telltale Batman games (yet). I wanted to correct that. Imagine fractured Telltale universes in which Bruce and John actually fall in love -- or at least, expose their feelings. That is what this is. Read on, if you will, and see all the ways it could have happened. The title is a reference to a Stevie Wonder song. Listen to it, it's good.





	1. The Truth is a Poison, Not a Medicine

**Author's Note:**

> The first chapter may receive a second part (not a second chapter but a continuation of the story) depending on feedback. Otherwise, the second chapter will be a new situation. Thanks!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce is injected with a truth serum courtesy of Mr. Freeze -- what he exposes next is earth-shattering for everyone involved.

**Episode 3: Fractured Mask, Alternative Ending**

It was an unusual turn of events for all three of them. Bruce lay on the esteemed mattress of the Ha-Hacienda in a deep sleep and with a big bruise on the side of his temple, courtesy of Bane. John sat on the other side of the room in the wheelchair he had ‘borrowed’, apprehensively watching the goings-on while twiddling his thumbs. Freeze, most bizarrely, sat at Bruce’s bedside fiddling with a syringe needle, flicking it to remove air bubbles.

“Now, after we inject the serum, the subject will be unable to tell anything but what they believe to be truth,” he explained, always willing to condescend to those around him. “Or, at least, that’s what my studies have determined thus far,” he said. He reached into his pocket and brought out a swab to clean the injection site.

John looked nervously from the needle to Bruce’s exposed arm. Anxiously, and somewhat like a wild monkey, he began to chew on his knuckles. Just as Freeze was about to inject the serum, the clown grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

“Listen, Doc, I’m real excited for this once-in-a-lifetime event, believe you me,” he started restlessly, fastly fumbling his words, “But are we sure this won’t…” John paused to make a circular motion with his index fingers, “....you know, kill him?”

Freeze turned slightly and looked at the clown with a disdainful sideways glance. Had it not been for Harley’s partiality for John, his potential as an assistant (which Freeze was in need of, as he ended of killing most of them), and for his occasionally humorous jokes… He would have slaughtered him right then and there.

“I suppose we don’t,” he replied with a thinly veiled smile. John’s nervous grin drooped into an unpleasant, fearful frown. He looked down at Bruce's still sleeping form.

Returning to the business at hand, Freeze shrugged off John’s grip and continued, “I am not certain of the adverse effects. He may be a little… loopy, before he completely comes to. Who knows what _secrets_ he might expose.”

“I trust him,” John replied, not really replying to anything at all.

“We’ll see,” said Freeze.

The needle broke the skin and the yellow-ish contents therein were injected. Near instantly, the sleeping Bruce groaned with discomfort.

Freeze rose to leave. “Tell me when he wakes up,” Freeze said, then added, “And… Don't tell Harley about this. Not yet. Not until we have the results.” If anything could have made John more nervous, it was that. And with his final instruction, Freeze was gone to check on his dead wife. The moment he was out of eyesight, John stepped up from his wheelchair and went to check on Bruce.

“Bruce? Bruce, are you okay?” he asked, shaking the other man’s shoulders.

“Erfm?” said Bruce. He squirmed for a moment, tightening up his face and body to stretch.

“Bruce!” John exclaimed excitedly, and with a sense of relief, “Oh thank goodness. You had me worried there, buddy.” He squeezed the other man’s shoulders and smiled his usual John-style larger-than-life grin.

Bruce’s eyes blinked open slowly, rolling to look at everything in the room before finally settling on the man in front of him, sitting at his bedside. He jerked backward in surprise and gave out another confused groan.

“...Bruce?” John said again with more concern.

“John?”

“Are you alright?”

“I am in a lot of pain..” he began, then very quickly corrected himself, “...but you being here makes me feel better.” Bruce was taken aback by his own comment, he hadn't meant to say that last bit… though he had been thinking it. It was true, Bruce felt safer when John was around, though danger seemed to follow the clown like the sun making its daily rotation.

John smiled pleasantly without a hint of menace. “Aw, Bruce, you big softie!” he replied cheerfully,  “You make me feel better, too!”

Bruce decided he was going to ignore that part of their conversation. “...Why am I here?” he asked. He brought a tentative hand to the stinging pain at his temple and seethed from the contact. He continued, “And why does my head hurt?”

John wrung his neck anxiously, looking away, clearly not wanting to answer as though it would embarrass him tremendously -- in other words, he was acting very much like a grade school child being asked if he had done his homework. “Well, Bane brought you back a little worse for the wear, said you'd been spying around someplace and needed to talk to Harley about it...” he said, “And… well, she wasn't around, and Freeze, he wanted to try something on you and I wasn't really sure how to tell him 'no' being that he could turn me into a popsicle…”

Bruce’s eyes were drawn to the dark hole in his arm and the surrounding veins pulsating and amber-yellow. He was not satisfied by John’s answer in the least.

“...John?”

“Yeah, Bruce?”

“What did he do to me?” Bruce asked with shocked unconcern.

John mumbled something incoherently.

“What?” Bruce snapped.

John ground his teeth with a high pitched whine.

“...a needle…” he muttered, red-faced.

“What was _in it_ , John?” Bruce pronounced through his teeth.

John shrugged off the question, fixing his eyes on a patch of dirt on the floor. “Gosh, Bruce, I don't know the scientific name…” he protested, unable to make eye contact.

“Tell me the truth.”

John burst out in laughter before noticing Bruce’s disapproving glare and checking himself with a hand over his mouth.

“Well, that's just it-- it's this, uh, ‘truth serum’ Freeze cooked up… he wants to test it out on you,” he said. John noticed the contemptuous look in Bruce’s eye and continued with a quicker pace, “Now listen, before you say anything -- I'm real sorry I couldn't stop him, but you know how _cold_ he can be.” John snorted happily at his own joke (much like an idiot), mouth wide like a horse's smile, _hee-_ ing and _haw-_ ing, before stopping abruptly when he looked at Bruce.

“Real sorry,” he repeated, nodding, “Like I said.”

Bruce covered his eyes with his hand with something similar to shame. Without thinking, he said, “I’m not mad at you, John, it’s just sometimes I wish you wouldn’t let people do things like this if it upsets you. Especially when it concerns someone you care about.” Bruce looked up uncomfortably, realizing he had perfectly articulated his feelings at that moment, without any hesitation. He hadn’t even thought of the words and yet there they were.

“You mean that..?” John asked, eyes wide and innocent.

“Yes, but I didn’t mean to say it,” Bruce replied. _Damn it!_ he thought,  _I didn’t mean to say that either!_

Something occurred to him then.

“...A truth serum, you said?” Bruce asked awkwardly.

John’s eyes became watchful and intelligent, almost ‘zooming’ in on Bruce like the lens of a camera. “It’s hard to control what you’re saying… because you’re telling the truth…” John started.

“Wait, this means Freeze’s serum worked!” he exclaimed, jumping off from his chair and clapping excitedly.

“No, no, no. We shouldn’t tell Freeze about this,” Bruce protested, grabbing onto John’s forearm and reining him in.

“Why not?” John asked quizzically, moving his head to the side like a cat.

Bruce put his hands over his own mouth frantically and waited a moment to ruminate over his answer. He figured that, though he could not lie, that did not mean he had to tell the complete truth or really tell at all -- so he wouldn’t. Slowly, he said, “...He might hurt other people with the serum if he figures out it works. Or ask me questions I shouldn’t answer.”

“Like what?”

His first impulse was to yell ‘who Batman is’ aloud but he instead tightened his grip over his own mouth. Once more concentrated, he answered truthfully, “I want you to stop asking these questions.”

John blinked at that, then smiled. “...You’re right. There are better questions to ask,” he said. He took a seat on the side of the mattress and looked directly into the other man’s eyes. Bruce inched backwards, a tad unwilling to get so close.

“Why are you moving away?” John asked a little offended.

Quick as a gun, Bruce answered, “I’m afraid of us touching.” _Fuck!_ he thought. He was discovering that it was easier to prevent himself from blurting out the truth if he concentrated on remaining quiet -- and even that was hard. The truth serum was becoming more powerful.

John pouted. “Why?” he asked again.

“It makes me feel weird,” Bruce blurted out. _Can I keep anything in?_

John lowered his gaze. “I thought we were friends…” he muttered.

Bruce’s brain felt like it was going haywire. He couldn’t control himself any longer and coherent thought was becoming… difficult. In a sense, it wasn’t truly a ‘truth serum’, and more of ‘the first thing I think of is what bellows out of my mouth’ potion.

He snatched John’s wrist and pulled the clown toward him. John snapped his head around, surprised at the use of force.

“More than friends,” was all Bruce said. John’s eyes widened to cosmic proportions. He began to whimper out a response but was stopped by the door’s slow creaking and opening.

Freeze walked in with a series of equipment, including a medical bag, before stopping suddenly once locking eyes with Bruce. Then John. Then back to Bruce.

Unwilling to digest the implications, he turned to the clown and chastised him.

“John, you were supposed to tell me when he woke up.”

“Oh, uh, Freeze -- he just did!” John said with an awkward smile, a pair of jazz hands, and sweat around his temples.

Freeze narrowed his eyes at the display, then looked at Bruce again for a long while.

“Next time,” he threatened, “Obey my orders. Or there won’t be a next time.” John tugged at his collar and forced a cough.

“Sorry, I was just-- I really wanted to see if the serum worked, so I was really, uh, grillin’ him, you know?” John supplied with a grin.

Freeze returned the smile. “I admire your curiosity, John. I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same.” He took a step forward towards Bruce then stopped suddenly, looking at John once more. “And call me Victor, if you will,” he said. John gave him another nervous smile and nodded vigorously.

“Bruce, I would recommend you lay back down. I am not sure of the serum’s side effects currently, but I am certain that if you do not, you will find yourself in a body bag very soon.” Bruce followed his first instinct, which was to comply with a nasty look on his face. He had no reason to escalate this situation and put himself and John in jeopardy.

“Alright. Let us begin the questioning,” Freeze said with a tense look. John tried to catch Bruce’s eye and communicate his feelings of pity, but Bruce would not move from his intense gaze on Freeze.

“Wait!” John exclaimed suddenly. He looked frantically between Freeze and Bruce before stammering out his next words under Freeze’s hateful eye, “I would like to ask the first question -- if you’ll please let me, Doctor Victor sir.” John brought his hands together and shook them at Freeze in the customary expression of begging.

Freeze was, frankly, startled by the exhibition but flattered by the ‘sir’ comment. If his skin wasn’t frozen blue, he might have blushed.

“Well,” he said, “I do not see the harm. Go ahead, John.”

John smiled aggressively. “Thank you, _sir!_ ” he said with a special enunciation.

He turned to Bruce with a pitiful look, begging with his eyes for a hint of what to ask to get them out of this situation, but tragically, Bruce was not at all psychic. John relented.

“...I’ve always wanted to know,” he started, deciding that he might as well ask a question he cared about, “What you really think of me. If you think we’re real friends. I mean, just because… I am the way I am, and you’re this big spender lady’s man… I mean, why do you even hang out with me, you know?”

In regular circumstances, Bruce would have brushed off this minute declaration with a single caring word and a few more superficial ones. Otherwise, he could jeopardize the mission or cause John to act in unpredictable ways -- both of which Waller wouldn’t want. But these weren’t regular circumstances.

Bruce stood up within the second and began to spill out words like he was bleeding them.

“I am in love with you. I am so in love with you. I didn’t come here for honest reasons but when I am with you I feel like I’m connected to someone who knows the nature of my very soul!”

At that moment, it was as though a fourth person had entered the room, told everyone that the world was ending, and promptly left.

Freeze was gritting his teeth uncomfortably, absolutely stunned.

John’s jaw was dropped.

And Bruce was screaming behind the eyes. Wherever that came from, it was buried deep, deep down before the serum let it see the light of day. He had never said anything so poetical, even to those he had adamantly intended to confess to. Some part of him wanted to believe that Freeze’s serum didn’t work, that it was all some placebo effect, that Bruce didn’t mean what he had just said -- it hadn’t even sounded like him anyway -- but it was all crashing before him. He felt like he had just lost his cover, his identity, and everything that had been protecting the city from sure destruction.

“I…,” he said next, slowly like he had taken a hit to the head, “I…”

He could feel the effects of the serum waning, his overly thoughtful and emotionally repressed mind returning to him at last. Exhausted, he collapsed on the bed.

Freeze stood up in a stiff, uncomfortable fashion. He took the medical bag in his hands along with the rest of his equipment up in his arms and made toward the door, but stopped right as he was about to leave. He turned his head slightly and said to both of them, “This technology needs to be destroyed --I’ve made a grave mistake.” Then hurried passed over the threshold.

The two men, one of them a future criminal and the other a present-day hero, were left in the room alone to deal with the carnage.


	2. Don't Let Them Hurt Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When it's too late.

**Episode 5: Same Stitch, Alternative Ending**

There was no war any man knew better than Bruce knew this one. His body epitomized it: his ribs were brittle and broken, his ear torn by a gunshot wound, scars like thread keeping him together. Operating somehow when it would otherwise crash. Bruce couldn’t help but feel that it was his determination that was keeping him alive. Each breath felt like another stab to the gut, as if even what was natural to him was now a punishment. He had lost everything to this war. Lucius, Tiffany’s innocence, Alfred’s resilience, and his own sense of justice. Bruce had split his code for the greater good, abusing the ones he loved for unknown lives and institutions. But where was the greater good now? All he could see was the bloodied clown across him, attached by knife-in-hand to the control panel, giggling in ugly bursts like a nervous hyena.

It was hurting him to watch. He decided, lying there covered in blood, bruises, and whatever else, that he needed to return to Alfred for the night and… rest, apologize, whatever else. Bruce pushed himself up with his forearms, shaking with something stronger than fear but weaker than determination. He had nearly gotten to his feet when the clown stopped him.

“Don’t go,” the Joker croaked, his eyes lazily opened. The blood from his hand was dribbling down his forearm and dripping onto the floor. Bruce winced.

Bruce found himself unable to refuse and slumped back down. “I’m sorry,” he said slowly, jaw heavy. It was sudden like a reflex and he didn’t know why, exactly, he had said it. Something just felt so very wrong.

“Oh, Batsie,” the Joker mused happily to himself, “Don’t feel so bad about it all. It’s not all _your_ fault.”

Looking at the Joker’s battered form, an echo of the happy-go-lucky fellow Bruce had once known, everything seemed to click into place.

“It wasn’t worth it,” Bruce whispered to himself. “There is no greater good. The greater good leaves blood on the hands of good people.” _It has left its blood on you,_ Bruce thought. “There’s no greater price than that.” _Than innocence._

The Joker bore his teeth in what might be called a smile. “Are you finally coming around to my side, Bruce?”

Bruce shook his head sharply. “Never.” The clown giggled again, but quietly, like it was a secret.

“I didn’t want this,” Bruce finally said, defensive. “I wanted… I wanted us to be friends. I wanted to help you.”

“Then why did you use me? And for people you didn’t even _know?_ I helped get you out of Arkham, Bruce. We _were_ friends. What the hell were they to you? You sold me out for nothing!” the clown shouted, curling his lip and widening his eyes to frightening proportions. Calm just a minute ago, the clown’s emotions had flipped on a dime.

“I thought I was doing good by being in your life,” Bruce pleaded to the clown and to himself, “I thought I was doing good by stopping the Pact. I thought I was helping you… but I didn’t know what I was doing at all.”

“What?” the Joker replied mockingly, “You mean Batman isn’t always right? Bruce Wayne doesn’t have all the answers? That’s ludicrous.”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

The Joker laughed again, violent and nasty with his head thrown back. Then, quickly, he made fast eye contact with Bruce. It was cold and analytical. Without warning, the clown lurched at his throat. Bruce dodged him expertly with his last piece of strength, throwing himself against the other side of the control room. The fast movement snapped something inside. Bruce hissed from the pain. The clown smiled at him, almost as a reflex, almost unfeeling -- as if that was his very intent.

“You know, Brucey,” he began, breathy, clearly high off the fumes of his aggression, “I get all that. You don’t need to explain any of that to me. I get it-- I was easy to take advantage of, and you needed the information. Why the hell not?” the Joker laughed to himself, incredulously throwing up his arm, but coughed roughly from the outtake of air and lost both his breath and the gesture.

“But what I don’t get,” the Joker said, raising a finger, “Is why in the hell you didn’t sell me out earlier. I heard Waller offer you the deal, Bruce. And for _the greater good_ ,” he pronounced it sarcastically,  “...which you were _so into_ just a few minutes ago.”

“I…” Bruce started then stopped. _I don’t know_ he thought, and almost said, but it didn’t feel like a just response. As murderous and misguided as the clown was, he deserved a real answer after everything that had happened.

“It was instinct,” he finally said.

“You could have saved your girlfriend, Catwoman,” the Joker said viciously.

“I know,” Bruce said.

“You could have protected your little friend agent Avesta.”

_“I know.”_

“Then why didn’t you? Are you a moron?!” the clown demanded savagely.

“They might have done to you what they did to Harley and Bane!” Bruce shouted back.

“Why the hell would you care? I broke your code! I’ve killed, Bruce! And I loved doing it!” he snarled with every other word, foaming a little at the corners of his mouth.

“ _I KNOW!”_ Bruce yelled.

The clown threw himself forward at the Bat’s feet, grabbing at him like a predator in the teeth of its prey. His hand bled more from the control panel, tearing the flesh again. Bruce tried to pull back but was held hard by the knee. The clown was bound to the panel like a dog on its leash. Heaving wildly, the clown forced his next words, “Then why? Tell me, Bruce! You owe me that much. What other purpose did I have, huh? What else was I worth to you?” he ground his teeth together like an animal, “How else were you going to use me?!”

Bruce tried to throw him off his leg, “Goddamnit, John, stop this!”

“TELL ME!” the other man screamed.

Forced under the pressure of his collapsing health and the clown’s advances, Bruce finally relented.

“I cared about you, you goddamn fool. _I loved you._ ” Bruce was taken aback but his own words, leaning backward as if he could escape them by pushing away from John. He shook his head hard, feeling tragic and small, “Of course I did… of course.”

Then there was quiet. The tight hold of Bruce’s leg loosened slowly. The clown scrambled backward, holding himself on his hand and legs. He laid on the control panel once again.

John shook his head, “Don’t say things like that, Bruce. That’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking.”

“Tell me what you want from me.”

“Nothing. I just wanted you to get better, John. I still want that.”

The Joker closed his eyes and looked away, disgusted. “Please, don’t say that.”

“I mean it. _”_

The Joker bit his bottom lip. At that moment, Bruce was reminded of Harley’s roundabout skepticism.

He resented what a horrible influence she had been on John. Especially here, especially now. But then, hadn’t John done everything wrong to attract her? Hadn’t he done the same for Batman? For Bruce? _Christ in Heaven_ , Bruce thought, _who is John really when he isn’t trying to impress someone?_

 _“_ How can I know?”

Bruce sighed. “You know because I didn’t give you to Waller,” he started, irritated, “You know because I tried to convince you at every turn to follow my code because I didn’t want to spend the rest of your life in Blackgate.” Bruce found himself gaining aggressive speed, “You know because I didn’t shut you up when I found out you knew my real identity. You know because I’m here right now, John!”

Bruce glared at the clown, chest heaving and breathing heavily, waiting for some response. He received nothing. The Joker sat silently, unresponsive to Bruce’s intensity, his eyes scrambling like he was checking the math.

“You broke my heart,” Bruce found himself muttering behind the mask. He meant it.

John looked away and found that he couldn’t look back at him. There was silence between them for a long while, both lost in their own thoughts. A few minutes passed this way before they were recollected by the sound of distant police sirens. They were running out of time. The Joker looked up intently at the Bat across from him.

“...what kind of love?” he asked suspiciously. Their eyes met at this.

Bruce’s cheeks went hot beneath the cowl. _What the hell is that supposed to mean?_ he wondered.

“...John. We can’t do this right now. Not after everything that happened tonight.” In other words, Bruce was his usual repressed self.

“ _Bruce,”_ the Joker threatened.

Bruce winced at his tone. Footsteps stomped beyond the control room door. Their company was going to be interrupted very soon.

They didn’t have the time. Bruce, in an effort to comfort the Joker, said, “I will visit you in Arkham. I promise.” He brought himself upward, clutching his stomach desperately. He clutched whatever he could until he was finally standing, bent over like an old man. Had he ever felt so weak?

The Joker looked at him sideways, burrowing his hands into fists. How many times was Bruce going to disappoint him? “I’ll hold you to that, Batsie.”

Just as Bruce turned to leave, the Joker called after him. Bruce looked back, holding onto the door frame for support and clutching to his ribs.

“Don’t let them hurt me, Bruce.”


	3. You Can Tell Me Anything... Except That

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conversation at the cafe goes a little differently.

**Episode 3: Fractured Mask, Alternative to Cafe Scene**

It was a dim night for coffee. Almost too late, one might think, but these two were beyond unusual. In fact, they were the exact opposite.

John was nursing his caramel frappe with sprinkles while Bruce awkwardly sipped on his espresso. The former had asked the latter why he needed the energy, but the latter didn’t have the strength to tell him he had only slept four hours the previous night. It wasn’t important, but he was tired. Very. Tired. BruceMan (or was it BatWayne?) had had a long night. 

The entire evening, John had been standoffish. He wasn’t making eye contact with Bruce or telling silly jokes like his usual self. Frankly, it was beginning to worry Bruce -- perhaps it meant the clown had something to hide, and that couldn’t mean anything good. _Not that John's regular behavior means anything good,_ Bruce thought. He was hoping to use this coffee date as an opportunity to get some answers out of him and then, as soon as he could, get back to Waller. Had he thought ‘date’? He meant ‘outing’. 

And so there they were. Bruce tried to tune in to John’s body language to figure out what was up in that weirdo’s head but it was coming in fuzzy. The clown was attempting to fold his hands but resetting them every few minutes, making every move not to look at Bruce, and crossing and uncrossing his legs. He was nervous, and that was all Bruce could figure out.  _But why?_

He hadn’t realized it, but his observation had left them in a long lull of silence. He may have been observant, but Bruce wasn't very socially-aware.

“Bruce?” John asked, clearly uncomfortable and perturbed by the other man’s inattention.

Startled, Bruce looked up and answered, “Yeah, John?”

John gnawed at his bottom lip and blinked rapidly. “I said,” he started, “Well, I was telling you that I didn’t tell you the complete truth… earlier.”

Bruce’s eyes widened.  _ Was his information about the Pact wrong? Did he really kill the Riddler? Was he actually a natural greenhead?  _

John smiled anxiously. “I see I’ve gotten you worked up,” he said, pausing to take a long sip of his frappe. He looked away nervously, “It’s nothing serious.”

“You can tell me anything, John,” Bruce assured him, meaning it. He placed a hand on the other man’s shoulder encouragingly. 

John blushed hard beneath his pearly white skin, grinning in that clumsy little way he did. His jaw went slack as he took in the moment. He began to chuckle low and heavy while staring intently at Bruce’s hand on his shoulder. It was now Bruce who was uncomfortable. He took his hand back. 

“Really,” he repeated, “Anything.” He tried to smile without looking uncomfortable and failed. He might have twitched a little, but John didn't notice. 

John nodded. “Alright, well, I invited you to talk to you about Harley,” he said. 

Bruce perked up at that. “Go on,” he said, taking a sip of his espresso with his eyes staring John down.

“I told you she was the girl of my dreams,” John said gravely, looking off into the distance, “...but I’m just not sure anymore.”

Bruce frowned, confused. He said nothing.

“There’s somebody else now,” John muttered, folding his hands again. He squeezed them tightly together until his knuckles went white, almost crushing them in an effort to let out his inner turmoil. 

Bruce quirked an eyebrow, then smiled. “Bane, huh?” he joked, “I always knew you liked a little muscle, eh?”

John’s face lost all of its color as his jaw went slack again. He whispered something quietly but couldn’t be heard. Bruce wasn’t sure what nerve he had hit but clearly, he had offended the clown. 

“I’m sorry for joking around,” Bruce said, apologetic, “You can trust me.”

John looked like he was in another world.

Bruce reassured him again, “I won’t tell.” Desperate to make the clown comfortable again, he added, “Do you need advice on how to win their heart, buddy?”

John nodded profusely then said, “I… I need to know how to _romance_ someone who… is a little… repressed.” He gave an awkward smile, still unable to look at Bruce except for a few stolen glances, desperately waiting for a reply. 

The other man blinked, equally if not a little less uncomfortable. He went straight about answering the question. 

“Maybe you just need to help them open up. Initiate a little bit of physical contact or trigger some more emotional conversations, just to show them they can trust you.”

John nodded and smiled genuinely for the first time all evening. “You really think so?” he asked. 

“I know so,” Bruce replied, replicating his smile in kind. 

Almost immediately, John took Bruce’s hand in his own. Bruce’s eyes instantly snapped to their two hands intertwined in the middle of the table. 

“Hey, uh, John?”

“Yeah?”

“What are you doing?”

“Initiating physical contact,” John replied in a halfway good imitation of Bruce’s voice, low and gravelly to a fault. 

“Why?”

“...because you told me to.”

“I told you to do that with this person you’ve been talking about.”

“...I’m practicing,” John replied defensively through an awkward chuckle, then went serious with his follow-up question, “Is it working?”

Unsure of how to proceed without upsetting or hurting his friend, Bruce went with the safe route. “Yeah, John. It’s working. Very good, uh, form,” he said like they were at the gym and not on a coffee date.  _ Coffee outing,  _ Bruce reminded himself. 

John grinned from ear-to-ear and squeezed the other man’s hand so tight his knuckles turned white. Bruce returned the smile on principal, only briefly humored but mostly uncomfortable. There was an exhilaration to the sensation that was frightening him, and that is what made him so nervous. 

“Was that it, John?” he asked in a hurry to get the conversation over and down with. 

Quickly, John answered. “Oh no…” he began excitedly, eager to explain, “There's more!” 

Bruce blinked, suppressing his minute irritation. “Go on.” 

“Well, uh, this person… It's a _guy_.”

“Oh.” 

Bruce needed a few seconds to process that. Truthfully, he hadn't expected that from John, but he found himself… Satisfied, if not pleased by the fact. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but perhaps it had to do with the fact it kept John farther away from Harley-- in whatever retrospect. 

He gave the clown a sweet, congratulatory smile. He knew the amount of trust it must have taken for the other man to share this information with him. “I’m happy for you, John,” he said ultimately. 

John wrung his neck nervously. “Thanks, Bruce, but… There’s even more,” he replied.

Bruce’s eye twitched. His mood, truthfully, was starting to dip in a negative direction. Knowing that John loved a woman was one thing, but knowing he loved a man… something was brewing in his gut and he suddenly didn’t want to be in this conversation anymore. The longer he was there, the more uncomfortable he was becoming.

“I have to go pretty soon here…” he said abruptly, standing up.

John caught his arm. The two shared a second of silent eye contact. 

“I really need you to hear this,” the other man begged. His eyes were wide and doe-like. In other words, he was perfectly irresistible and handsome as ever. Bruce could not deny him further attention.

Bruce frowned. Against his better judgment, and out of some pit of empathy in his heart, he relented. His look of unease twisted into a grimace as he sat back down again.

“...Go on,” he said, repeating himself. 

John smiled awkwardly, glad at the acceptance but clearly still nervous. He looked down at the table between them and mouthed something quietly. His eyes went up to Bruce once more, waiting for a response. 

“...What?” Bruce asked, indignant, starting to get visibly irritated. At what, he couldn't understand, but knowing John loved another man for whatever reason was starting to upset him. He needed to be alone for a while and think about all of these feelings critically -- and the continuation of this " _outing"_   was making that impossible.

“I’m...well…I…”

_ Can’t he just spit it out?  _ Bruce thought. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t--”

“It’s you, Bruce!”

Bruce’s peace of mind snapped like a frozen rubber band.

Unthinkingly, John rambled,“You’re just so big and strong and handsome and funny, like _ so _ funny, and you’re my friend (and like, _that's a first for me_ ) and you’re smart and I love being around you and _ I want you to bench press me. _ ”

He stared down the other man, shaking horribly. Bruce stared back, shocked and completely still. Neither knew what to do or what to say.

John was starting to feel rejected. Bruce wasn't saying anything at all and that had to mean he not only didn't return the clown's feelings but he resented them. John was shaking harder now. He decided it was better that he left. No, _escape_. 

_I'm such a damn idiot,_ John thought to himself. He moved to sit up to leave before Bruce could say anything at all -- but he was stopped by the other man. 

Out of the quiet, Bruce mumbled something unintelligible. 

John's head snapped in his direction. "What?" he said, demanding. 

"I said..." Bruce started, voice faltering. He shuddered for a second. 

" _...what?_ " John repeated, now the irritated one. 

"...I said I have a home gym..."

 


End file.
